Shadow of The Ripper
by Lana Archer
Summary: Defan one-shot. They were always facing one another; so different yet so alike. A love between brothers that seemed to bring them together as often as it tore them apart. One decision seems to undo their bond for good but it's that same choice that might very well reunite them. Rated M for violent imagery


_**For the love of Defan**_

* * *

><p><strong>Ying and Yang:<strong>

**While one brother had long fallen into the embrace of a soulless existence the other was still clinging to a dwindling hope, like the final flickers of the embers of a long dying fire. Stefan had turned it all off to take the pain away, to literally numb the loneliness where Damon had chosen initially to stay and fight for Katherine, for his brother. Little by little and with perfect synchronicity they watched as the tables turned and Damon fumbled off into the dark just in time to miss the light return to his brother's eyes.**

~**The Shadow of the Ripper~**

Stefan was enjoying himself _immensely_. He knew he'd crossed the line between savouring and indulgence some years ago but that didn't stop him from sinking his teeth into the woman's throat as she hummed drowsily in disapproval. She would have been terrified, had he not compelled her very _soul_ out of her before turning her into his latest conquest. As it were her hands dangled uselessly at her sides as she lay in his lap, fumbling as her breathing grew shallow, and her twitching fingertips searching for something to cling onto as she sank further into the looming darkness behind her lids. Taking in a final gasping breath her efforts were cut short when her head flew across the room, Stefan's Cheshire smile was lined with her still warm blood as it dribbled down his chin. Shoving her body away with a sudden repulsion he staggered to his feet, his head spinning from his blood-high. Slowly, and with amused snickering at his antics he made his way to the wet bar in the hotel he'd overrun not two days ago. Discretion wasn't exactly his forte. Trailing wiggling fingers over the bottles before he grabbed the fullest one and retreated back to the blood-stained armchair that he'd grown quite fond of. It was plush and had the perfect build to cradle drunken women as they gyrated their bodies on top of him before he got bored with them. And then killed them.

If he had to pick his three favourite things at that moment they'd be listed as the following; in third place, his unquestionable freedom, second, the plethora of women that curled around him every hour, wicked and willing before they learned his true form…Then finally, and most importantly – the kill. He thoroughly enjoyed the kill, even challenging himself every now and then to tweak his methods and bring a different element to the broken bodies he left in his wake. Why no one had sought after him and staked him yet was something he was both indifferent toward and begrudgingly thankful for. He knew how uptight some witch covens could be, how ascetic some vampires were who'd only _judge_ him, curling their lips in disgust at his blissful decent into Darkness. He'd done nothing but tear his way from one end of the world and back, harassing every available surface of America in particular.

Every now and then, like this moment now, when he popped off the cork from the glass bottle his thoughts would flicker quickly to Damon and away again. Even with his humanity off Stefan still _felt_ something. A stirring of something, a shadow of what he should have. But he let the sensations rap away at the door of his acknowledgement; he'd gotten good at being devoid of emotion – it was the only thing he was even remotely _fond_ of in the wasteland of a world. Not feeling made it all easier, made it all more colourful somehow, when he'd expected the world to drain of all its vivacity and appeal when instead it had lit up like the fourth of July in his eyes. The endless opportunities that called to him had him dizzy with glee and freedom – and a riotous desire for blood. _More_ of it… _all_ of it.

Damon didn't announce his presence, just stood in the darkest corner of the hotel suite, watching his brother. They were both aware that that they were in the same room but for the longest moment they let it sink in, let it simmer – before they moved to ruin it.

"Brother." Stefan spat coldly and Damon took a single step forward, out of the shadows, the darkness of the room mixed with his darker hair making him look like the imaginings of a drunken man. _Perhaps that's all it was_, Stefan thought, after all he hadn't seen his brother in what felt like eons. But then Damon took another step, bringing his fair skin into the subdued light of the carefully placed oil lamps in the room, making him look hard and tired.

"Stefan." Damon replied, his voice even as he cleared more space between them.

"I'd stop approaching me if I were you." Stefan said coolly, an edge to his voice that was riddled with churning anger and a foretelling of the strength that lay waiting at his teeth and fingertips. Damon nodded as he stopped abruptly, his long, high collared trench coat covering the majority of his person as he stood, quietly observing Stefan in a way he knew his younger brother loathed. Damon truly was a sight to behold. His coat a dark charcoal colour, offsetting his angular face, making him look more like the tales of a savage vampire than his sweet-faced brother…had Stefan not been caked in blood at present of course.

"You've been busy." Damon said, a curious tilt to his head before he looked down at his booted feet at the heads that lay there, twisted at the neck, the skin frayed at the edges, a sign of the brute and sloppy force Stefan employed to kill them. Arms were here, legs there, tattered corsets, blood soaked ribbons, stray women's shoes, one of them in particular with its heel twisted, as if the woman who'd worn it was offered the illusion of escape and had taken it…moments before her obvious demise. Stefan's hair was cropped, mussed and matted with sprays of blood here and there, his face had a long curving smudge of crimson that was darkest just under his mouth. When he smiled the blood cracked and Damon's chest twisted at the sight of him.

"I assume you have as well," Stefan said, lazily twirling the bottle he had hanging from his fingers, "You haven't visited in what…Thirty years?" Damon's mouth remained in a thin line. Unbeknownst to Stefan Damon had been following his brother the entire time; fending off riotous covens and gangs that sought out to end the _Ripper_ as he'd been dubbed. Damon had spent the last while trying to find a solution to Katherine's entombment and to keeping Stefan out of harm's way. But Damon could feel the tide's turning. He could feel his will to fight dwindling as the same despair that had rose up to greet him the day he discovered he was to be made immortal shot through his chest. Looking at Stefan, he wanted nothing more than to descend into madness with his brother; they _should have_ fallen together in the first place…they couldn't seem to rise above adversity so why not slip away… _side by side_ the way Stefan had wanted them to be in the first place? Damon had the answer to that question; he'd left, he'd left when his brother had needed him, he'd allowed himself to sink into selfishness, resurfacing when it was too late to save even himself. He blamed himself for what they'd become, but he still thought that finding Katherine, being reunited with her would help him somehow and perhaps then, when he was whole, he stood a better chance of convincing his brother to live a better life as well?

"Time has passed." Damon said eventually, "But this isn't a social call." He added and watched as an unsurprised wry smirk twisted Stefan's face, a mixture of disappointment and amusement.

"Then to what do I owe the honour?" Stefan sighed, standing up and stalking forward, giving Damon credit for not reacting at all to their sudden change in proximity.

"You need to leave this city." Damon said, "There's been a hit put on you, you must go. I will help you." Stefan laughed then, a loud, near hysterical sound before his cold flat eyes landed on his brother's serious face.

"I will do no such thing." Stefan spat, tipping the bottle to his mouth and finishing the remaining three quarters in one large gulp before throwing the bottle aside carelessly. Stefan stepped further into his brother's space then, his boozy breath punctuating his words as he hissed them heatedly. "You have no say here Damon, you left, you took your heart and your love for the women who killed us and you left…you don't get to tell _me_ when to leave…in _fact_, I suggest you turn around and walk away once more, I don't need you. I _**never**_ have." Damon kept his expression blank.

"Liar." He whispered softly. Stefan shoved him, a quick movement of his open palm but Damon was sent backwards a good few feet, digging the flats of his boots into the carpet underfoot to find traction and his footing. "You think you don't need anyone but you do. You need me."

"Wrong," Stefan sneered, "Not without my humanity I don't," he pointed out, "Besides, even as dead as I am inside now as well as out, your face reminds me of darker days and I'd rather _not_ remember. It's better that you leave. _Leave_ and _stay_ gone." Damon's undead heart ached. He'd felt the allure of switching off his humanity many times and he was yet to succumb, but he could feel the temptation rising with every word spilling from his brother's mouth. He wanted his pain gone too, he didn't care for the memories so much, he just wished they'd hurt less. Stefan must have sensed his wavering sentiment because his smile deepened, making him look like a madman. "Turn it off," Stefan said, gripping Damon by the neck, "Turn it off and leave me alone, go live your life and I'll live mine."

"You don't mean that." Damon said, his voice clear even with the pressure Stefan had on his windpipe.

"I don't mean anything I say anymore," Stefan said with a dry chuckle, "And that's the beauty of it." He held Damon a little closer. "Turn it off brother, I know how much it hurts and I promise you, all your obligations, your self-appointed onus of 'protecting' me as you so claim, it all falls away, only the determination to get Katherine back will stay…wouldn't that be lovely?"

"I won't desert you." Damon vowed and Stefan gave him a look of pity and then the expression slid into one of disgust.

"You're no brother of mine." Stefan snapped, pushing him away and turning to stalk to the wet bar, "_My_ brother, he would have stayed, he would have sought to salvage his life with me…he wouldn't have fled from me, from himself…"

"Then surely you don't know me." Damon said, "Mother always said I was the more tumultuous between the two of us."

"Bring her up again and I'll kill you." Stefan said, his eyes suddenly black and red with rage.

"I thought you didn't care anymore." Damon said.

"About you? No. About my mother – _always_." Stefan growled.

"And I'm here now," Damon forged on, "Is it not enough for you?"

"Nothing is enough for me. Never will be again." Stefan said, his voice distant, like he was remembering something that was slowly pulling him under. "You'll turn yours off soon too and then we'll see how keen you are to uphold the pretence of our relationship."

"I'm sure you're wrong." Damon said and Stefan nodded, his face dark.

"I assure you that _you_ are, the allure of darkness has always leaned in your favour, you'll be worse than me." Damon nodded.

"I always was worse than you, remember?" Damon replied with that lingering resentment that had been nurtured so aggressively by their father Giuseppe Salvatore.

"_There it is_," Stefan said with a smug smile and an accusatory finger at Damon's face, "That resentment will fuel you." He nodded to himself and then laughed softly. "I suppose I should leave, I have been yearning to return to the Southern Hemisphere for some time now…they are far more liberal with their fear and their blood." Damon pulled a face. "Follow me and I'll put you out of your misery myself, I do grow tired of your lack of morality with your own actions and your simultaneous oppression of moral conduct onto me."

"I have only _just_ seen you again." Damon said, annoyed.

"And already you've managed to sour my mood and make a mess of my plans." Stefan accused.

"Your _plans_ are to make a mess." Damon retorted taking a step forward.

"And haven't they been working out so _well_?" Stefan asked with all the pride of a deluded Prince mounting a fallen throne. Damon shook his head in disappointment and bone-deep dismay.

"Just make sure you leave." Damon said, his voice earnest and pleading. Stefan stepped forward until they stood almost chest to chest. None too gently he patted Damon's cheek.

"I'll leave the minute you turn your humanity off." Stefan said, dipping his head to lock his dulled green eyes with Damon's fiery blue. Blue orbs that bulged in protest. "Do it or I stay here and die and you turn it off anyway, we both know how sentimental you are," a sharp smile cut across his face, "Why else would Katherine still be a priority?"

"You know nothing of her love." Damon spat.

"True," Stefan said, turning away with his hands behind his back as he turned in a slow circle before looking back to Damon, "And you know even less." With a snarl Damon leapt forward only to be pushed wayward by a quick flick of Stefan's arm. "Pathetic." He said with a snicker. "Just turn it _**off**_ Damon."

"**No**." Damon snapped as he flashed to his feet. Stefan's face turned sad then, so quickly and so sincerely that it startled Damon who watched as his younger brother's eyes filled with tears and a depthless depression. His mouth was downturned and his breathing turned ragged.

"Not even for me?" Stefan whispered and Damon was sure he'd turned his humanity back on, had he not been making the most absurd request. "Turn it off and I leave, I'll be safe and you'll be free." He drew in a shaky breath, "I want your pain gone too Damon, like you want me to be better, like you want me to stop hurting and I _have_ and you will too if you turn it off." Damon swallowed.

"I'll do it." Damon said, "I'll do it if you leave tonight."

"I'll never look back." The younger brother vowed and Damon nodded, swallowing thickly as the severity of the situation fell around him. Like the sky itself had cracked open and every secret was falling on them, weighing them down, and burying them in seconds. Damon closed his eyes. He missed when Stefan's face slipped; first to its usual sneering and then back to sadness. A sudden sadness Stefan hadn't expected, or sanctioned – he'd toyed too deviously with his humanity switch and had fumbled, turning it on. He watched as Damon's frame shuddered; and he swore he could see the life of his brother slip out of him, out of his shoulders, his chest as he exhaled. Stefan watched it all with a climbing horror as he realised what he had done…How could he have _done_ _this_? He felt his chest tighten as he stumbled forward, stepping on an arm and recoiling in disgust. A sickness trudged through him as the weight of his choices befell him; as the memory of his behaviour returned to him with fresh, human eyes. The pain was fierce – but nothing compared to the thundering terror that filled him when Damon reopened his eyes. It was like they'd exchanged places – but no matter where they stood they were always set to lose it seemed. Stefan moved to speak but a burning bottle crashed in through the window and Damon looked down at it with uninterested eyes as he walked over to it slowly, lifting it up to stare at it curiously, wondering why it hadn't immediately exploded. The fabric was burning its way quickly to the alcohol left in heavy set glass bottle and before Stefan could yell at Damon for his sudden death wish his brother through the bottle back out of the window.

There was a loud explosion and the blood smeared cream curtains were lit up from behind by a sudden orange wall outside of the window. Stefan tore his eyes off it slowly and turned to Damon who was looking at him coldly.

"You promised." Was all that came from Damon's lips, his face as hard as it had always been, but it was his eyes now that bore no resemblance to Stefan. Damon's eyes had been his most favourable aesthetic according to man himself; the only thing he'd inherited from his mother he'd always said. They were as dead as she was now. And Stefan had done this. He had done this to his brother, all to agree to leave the town and to stop tormenting it's people. Damon had said he was being hunted, being sought after…it served him _right_ he thought bitterly. "Stefan," Damon snapped, his voice loud and punctuated with the sounds of more glass bottles being thrown into all the windows of the hotel, "You _promised_." Stefan's hands shook. "If you don't leave, I'll kill you myself and put us _both_ out of our misery." Damon swore, "You were right you know…" he went on, turning hollow eyes to watch as a flame licked up one of the curtains from another bottle that had exploded somewhere behind him, "I am worse than you." He smiled then, and it curved his face oddly, as if someone had moved his mouth as opposed to it moving itself. "Stay in here and die or leave and live a life far from me, it's your choice." Damon ended off saying and righted his coat and, saluting Stefan, jumped out of the window. Stefan stood there for a few moments, among the quickly growing flames and he was only brought out of his head when he heard the screams begin. Damon was making quick word of keeping his promise to protect Stefan…even the way he was now. Making a rushed change of his clothes and pulling on a heavy coat he pulled up the collar to hide his face and followed Damon's lead, leaping out of the window and landing gracefully onto the ground, four floors below. He looked around him; seeing nothing but fire and corpses and blood…his brother nowhere to be found.

Walking off into the night with nothing but his guilt to accompany him Stefan swore then and there that when the time came he would get his brother back and he would fix what he broke between them and they would be reunited in their immortality. He wouldn't give up on Damon, because Damon hadn't given up on _him_.

* * *

><p><strong>I actually know diddly-squat about their "initial" livesrelationship as vampires (never read the books) so this stemmed from pure speculation and was more of an ode to their 'lost in translation'-esque relationship. Damon and Stefan to me are two sides of the same coin in good ways and bad and it's always fascinated me. I hope you enjoyed.**

**Thoughts?**


End file.
